Naamah_Darling

A fiercely stinky blend in the bottle, Kali takes black cocoa, honey, tobacco leaf, and covers it with a faint patina of sweet florals. It smells very dirty, like sweat, or body funk. On, the flowers come out in a spicy torrent in which I can identify a trace of rose and hibiscus; I'm not familiar enough with the other notes to tell what they are. This is actually a wonderfully complex floral, with a subtle darkness in the background and a throw that is delightfully feminine without being dainty or girly. A robust yet blazingly floral and female scent that is just as likely to strangle you with that silk veil as dance with it. I really hope it stays this nice, because a floral this interesting that I could actually wear would be a wonderful thing to have. God, as it dries this just gets more beautiful. Exotic blooms dying in the heat, almost cloying in their spiciness, and underneath it all a questing shadow, a reaching tendril of darkness. I'm not getting the wine or the chocolate or the honey overtly, but they are there in the background behind the flowers, and they're holding them up, keeping them from going powdery. This stays juicy and wet, just one step from choking and overripe. This lasts and lasts, and it doesn't go through a skanky powder phase at all. Glorious! I'm amused by all the people saying "but Kali smells so sweet!" That's the idea, chilluns. She's the gentlest and most beautiful goddess there is, once you've opened your heart to her. Why should the smell of a death goddess be anything but lovely?

Holy rabbits, Batman! That has a kick! It smells like chocolate rum cake! Delicious! There's a touch of fruity sweetness that's probably the wine, but it's very understated. When I put it on, the rum smell overwhelms the cocoa, and then the wine comes pouring out. There is another note in this that emerges after a moment or two; hard to pick out of the seething cauldron of rum and wine. It's a knife-edge note that's somewhere between incensey, herbal, and metallic, and my first instinct is to recoil. No, it does not smell like blood (I smell a lot of blood, so believe me when I say that this is not a blood smell), but it does hit the same spot in the back of my mouth/nose that blood does if you get a good dose of it in your mouth. It does smell strong if you get right up on it. But it's fascinating. I can't stop sniffing it. It doesn't actually smell revolting, it just smells . . . very, very unusual. This must be the "blood" note. It doesn't smell like dragon's blood to me, either, though there might be a touch of that also in here with the wine. Dragon's blood just doesn't have that metallic stink to it. The blood note backs off after a little bit, and the rum has gone to honey, the wine to something fruity and depraved. The chocolate is there as a warmth, but it's not dominant anymore. This is very similar to Blood Kiss. But where I said Blood Kiss is a teenage girl, this is her older brother who has the same questionable habits. More grown up, less sweet. A rather mean boy with a newly pierced tongue. Smells like brandied chocolate sauce over berries, and then kissing a guy with a bloody lip. It's as much a taste as a scent. An intense, throaty scent that's all booze and honey. Overripe, gorgeous, and made for the kind of freaky sex that has you spitting on one another and tearing up the sheets.

This is a glowing orange liquid that smells violently – almost repulsively – of cocoa and patchouli in the bottle. On, it becomes a particularly meaty combination of cocoa, leather, and patchouli, with just a hint of citric floral breezing right across the top. The incense comes out in powdery bursts. Its throw is powerfully cocoa/patchouli, a uniquely smelly combination that is quite animal. As it dries the cocoa smell fades into the background and this becomes very strongly patchouli/leather. Now it's a murky, dark smell, the scent of something lurking, stalking. This reminds me of a nastier Les Infortunes de la Vertu. They share the leather and incense and flower notes, but the addition of patchouli and cocoa really bring this one down into the dirt. It's also reminiscent of Sin, minus the cinnamon note that really didn't work for me in the end. It walks that fine line between piquant and powdery, and even at the end when the flowers are predominant it doesn't get that powder smell. In fact, the extreme drydown of this is simply beautiful, a spicy, peppery floral with just a hint of the patchouli peeking through. Its sex appeal is pronounced, but it's a very gender-neutral scent, and would work equally well on men and women. I very much like it, even though it is powerful and perhaps even "stinky." It's adventure, pushing the realm of personal perfume as performance art almost into uncomfortable territory – very daring. Not a smell to argue with in a dark alley.

Honey and carnation twine in the glass, combined with sweet sandalwood, a hint of patchouli, and a swirl of amber and clove. Sweet, with promise of great depth to come. On, the incense boils out, along with the clove and florals. Again, a note there that I can barely lay hands on: the labdanum, which is sweet, round, and throaty. This is gorgeous and deep, all incense and wilting florals. The amber and honey are detectable, but not overpowering, giving it a golden warmth. There's a rosiness in here, and a woodiness, that reminds me a little of Old Scratch. I can smell the carnation trying to go bad. I really hate how it ruins everything it's in once it hits my skin. Here, though, it's kept in check for a long time by the amber and honey and clove, so while the scent is, indeed, very dry, it's not the rancid and foul old-makeup smell I usually get from carnation. I don't think it's quite lovely enough on me to warrant a bottle, but someone who can wear florals and likes incense might do well to try this one. It's subtle, sophisticated, and very rich. Sweetness and dry rot, the hollow smell of debauchery. I really wish I was getting full mileage out of it because I think on the right person this would be a stunner but alas, the florals do this one in for me.

Well. Murky cocoa, pepper, and allspice front this spicy blend in the bottle. Despite the fact that it does not contain any ingredients that typically strike me as "dirty," it smells a little like rotten earth and moldering wood. It's not a bad smell, but it certainly isn't immediately pretty. Oooh. The musk and dragon's blood warm up and it's much nicer, a sweet, spicy blend with a rich, dark warmth to it. I think it's the combination of dragon's blood and allspice that smells floral, almost rosy. Very interesting, an absolutely unique transition from the bottle phase to the wet-on-skin phase. As it mellows, the vetiver and dragon's blood really take center stage. The cocoa and allspice, which at first promised a spicy richness, are very much in the background, barely there at all. This is in no way foody on me despite the many food elements, a fact which pleases and confuses me all at once.

Oh my god. This is the leather-store leather smell. For real. Wet in the bottle, this smells like the suede tables at Tandy Leather. It goes on velvety and smooth, warming up from its initial coolness to a soft, hot saddle leather scent. Very simple, very clear, and unmistakeable. It has an almost chlorine/aquatic smell to it while it's wet, which is just . . . weird, but the suede leather scent is quite true. It stays pretty steady, and has an almost old-bookish smell to it at the end that's quite nostalgic. Overall, it's not pure sex the way the De Sade leather note is pure sex, but it is the real leather smell I love. It's a shame this was a limited edition and is now quite hard to find. I wish I had a full bottle of this so I could play with it and layer it with some other stuff, because I think as an individual note mixed with, say, vanilla, amber, and/or an incense, it might be even better. Or tea – green tea – and white musk with a dash of tonka. Aaah, the possibilities.

I smell citrus, grass, and the musk most strongly. It's very cool, deep, and masculine. Once I put it on, the smoke and bourbon and leather come out in a heady rush, and it gets downright hot. There's a little clove in here, but not too much. Just enough to spice it up without smelling like chai. This is a very distinctive, very masculine scent. It would be almost painful to smell because of the strength of the citrus, but citrus dies fast on me and the frankincense, ambergris, and musk even it out. There's a smooth roundness to it underneath that is quite pleasant, and that comes to the fore more and more as the scent dries and ages. The clove and frankincense give this an exotic, almost otherworldly feel. The smells I've tried I can best compare it to are Iago, Severin, and Hellfire. It's got the leather and grass of Iago, but with more subtlety and a veneer of highborn civility in the citruses that Iago lacks. It's a Severin with more guts and more character; though the citrus doesn't last any longer on me, there's more bottom to it. In comparison to Hellfire, this is a much more personal scent, not an ambient or room scent; remember I mentioned that Hellfire's a library or study? This is the scent of the man who spends much of his time in that study. A fascinating blend, and one of the most complex blends I've tried yet. It's good on me, but on my male friend it's great.

This is the first oil I've wanted to eat out of the bottle. It smells like creamy almonds and orange peel, a smell like the cookies my husband and I make every year for the winter holidays. There's a bit of spice here, too, but it's so strongly almondy that it nearly smells like a chocolate-covered cherry (that's what almond flavoring smells like to a lot of people, self included -- cherries). On, the cloves and rose come out, but the almond is still dominant. There's sandalwood present, which is really, really interesting under the almonds – the effect is very lush and very sexy. This is the scent of physical comfort, of mounded cushions, sweetmeats on silver trays, and naked bodies thinly veiled in silks and the scent of newborn roses. The rose blooms more as it dries down, rose and spices, with a hint of citrus I'm not entirely sure about; it could be what is making this a little sour on my skin. It vanishes on the total drydown, and the scent becomes a dusty, sandalwoody smell rounded out with spiced roses. A beautiful perfume, just a hair high-pitched for me to really fall in love with it, and I'm coming to appreciate that I don't really care for sandalwood perfumes in general. They all seem to share a common note that just doesn't quite smell right on me, and I think that's the influence the sandalwood itself has on the other notes. For someone who doesn't mind sandalwood, and who doesn't have a problem with the Lab's almond note, this would be an excellent choice. It's adult, sophisticated, beautiful, and alluringly vulnerable. This is utterly feminine and just a little bit smug. This is the scent of a woman who knows exactly how good she smells, and who is aware of exactly how to use what she's got. Actually, for Firefly fans, it reminds me a great deal of Inara.

Good lord, this one's a puzzler. In the bottle, it's pale, chill, and perfumey. Very clean, a feather-light citrus with a dry musk and just a hint of floral. It's so well blended that I cannot pick out individual notes. This goes on very floral and classically perfumey; the geranium/lily is right out front, backed by the lime and vetiver. Ah, dammit. There's the lavender. Vetiver, too, though, like hewn grass. I'm not getting bourbon or patchouli, sadly. The sandalwood is a dryness way underneath. At the risk of making a terrible pun, this is a very grave scent, austere but complicated, sober but very deep. This is a really interesting smell, and I can tell that on someone else it'd be lovely, but sadly, the lavender and gardenia just won't shut up. Ack. Nothing ruins a blend on me faster than rancid flowers. After only a few minutes, when it should be at its most beautiful, all I'm getting is used makeup sponges. Bugger this. I'm washing it off.

This is a lemony incense scent, redolent of sandalwood, lemon/sage, and vetiver. On, the incense warms up, frankincense and sandalwood. The sage note is delicious and herbal, and combines with the lemon to give it an astringent quality that takes the edge off the sandalwood's sweetness. I've smelled labdanum before in Snake Charmer and Hades, but I don't think I know it well enough to pick it out. It's supposed to be a resin derived from rockroses. I suppose it may be what is responsible for the grainy, darkly sweet gummy note in this, almost like a really rich amber. From the descriptions I expected something more high-pitched and uncomfortable, but naturally my body eats the greenery and lemons and just leaves the incense and the clean lavender fougere to play around with the vetiver. They're playing nice, though. This is a nice gender neutral scent that strikes me as a bit more sexy than incense smells usually do. I like it quite a bit. Fans of cerebral, incense blends might enjoy this, as might fans of clean scents. I have a strong feeling this isn't quite doing what it's supposed to do on me, so I'm not sure of my ability to properly review this one. It's very hard to get a handle on.

This thick and viscous oil is the color of iodine in the glass, and on opening it, it smells of orange and cocoa, with a flush of musk. It goes on smooth, and the orange is like a flare of light. The cocoa dies back, replaced by tonka's warm, almost vanilla edge, and the sweet lick of saffron. The tea is here, and the tobacco, a kind of swirly stew of masculinity. The orange is the edge of the sword, it's really quite cutting. All of the scents in this are red or brown or darkly golden. With the name, it gives me a picture of an old bronze sword sheathed in well-used leather. This is a civilized scent, much more civilized than I had expected. As it dries and mellows, it reminds me of some kind of orange/chocolate liqueur. It's not foody because it's not sweet, so it smells sort of boozy. The orange topnotes die fast, just like Severin;s did, and the residue it leaves behind is lingering, but rather soft and faint. Very pretty.

Sage and cedar front this in the bottle. There's leather off in the background, and musk. On, whoa, the vanilla comes leaping out, with the carnation. Oh, wow. The sage and cedar retreat into the background. At the heart of this scent is the vanilla/musk/leather combination, which is truly different. It's white musk and vanilla, so it smells just a little like Dorian, but with a leather punch, and just a bit of greenery taking the place of the lemon in Dorian's blend. I'm not noticing the florals at all, which is a good thing. They're barely present. This is a proud, austere scent. I can, indeed, picture a cold prince in all his finery, riding forth on a high-stepping white charger. On the horse's faceplate is a horn carved from human bone. This is the unicorn that never heals. It's a beautiful smell. The vanilla and musk are very sensual and couth, but it's all tinged with the menace of leather. The cedar and sage are in the background, like high-pitched strings warning of danger. I'd say this is truly gender-neutral; the vanilla is a little feminine, but it's balanced by the other notes and isn't foody in the least. This is really a very dry and haughty scent that thinks a lot of itself, and rightfully so. If you liked Dorian but wished it had a little more menace, you might try this.

Ooooh. In the bottle, this is sweet and gritty, a fruity and dirty smell almost exactly like I would have imagined. I really, really like it. I like patchouli, but I'm not always fond of what it does on my skin. We'll see what black patchouli does. Well, that's . . . interesting. I'm not sure this is kind, but on me it smells like a very clean rat. You know, that fresh wood-shaving smell, combined with the smell of . . . well . . . rat. An animal smell, with just a faint tang of pee. My, that's embarrassing. I, uhh, really like the smell, though. So your guess is as good as mine. Take this review for comedy value only, and with a heavy dose of salt. I think that the combination of the black patchouli's sharply animal musk combined with the sweet apricot is what gives it the odd pine-shaving smell. In another blend, I imagine I would like the patchouli very well. It doesn't smell excessively sweaty or ammoniac on me, anyway, which is a relief. I really like it, but on my idiosyncratic skin, it's probably not what the maker had in mind.

This is lovely in the bottle: a rosy sandalwood blend with a brush of deeper incense. It is both sweet and subtle. On, it achieves a sort of feminine grandeur that is very sexy without being either bubblegummy or slutty. I have never smelled palmarosa, but it's a fragrant grass supposedly similar to lemongrass and vetiver. I'm guessing that's the topnote I'm getting here that is tangy and a bit sour, keeping the rose and sandalwood from being too sweet. The patchouli in here is sitting way at the bottom. This is more sedate, dry, and a little less loudly rosy than I expected. I like it very much, but it is terribly sweet. Not in a foody, sugary way, but in a floral, cloying kind of way that is the result of the rose and sandalwood, I think. Reminds me a little of Spellbound and Blood Rose. Very nice, very womanly, and richly sexy without being naughty. Satin, and not velvet. Ripe. This scent has moderate throw and moderate wear on me, and will need careful and sparing reapplication to keep it fresh. A good rose and incense blend.

I am amused by the idea of a scent named after chicken-biting sideshow freaks. Not exactly my idea of sexy. But the notes of this blend called to me as one, and lo, it turns out to be my idea of sexy after all. In the bottle, it is . . . oh, god, yes. Oh, oh dear. Leather, cedar, resin, and a slight whiff of cinnamon. It's gorgeous. Oh, Lab, it's been too long since I have been at the "mercy" of one of your leather blends. Take me! On, this is all swagger, an unneutered, leg-humping scent that is both sharp and dirty. A strong dose of woodsy green and dry cedar are layered with the leather. I don't like cinnamon, but it's the cinnamon in this that takes it from pleasant to sublime, giving it a suggestion of licking, of warmth, of bite. I can't quit sniffing this. Holy GOD. I hate piney scents, and cinnamon is really not my thing, but this is like rougher-than-hell sex in liquid form. This is screaming, swearing, tearing at the floorboards, bloody-nosed sex. It's lip-biting sex where you knock your teeth together, slap each other, spit on each other. If it stays this amazing and doesn't turn to powder or candy, I'm LIVING IN IT. It gets very cinnamon and leather as it dries, and the green fades back a bit. A sweetness like dry grass blows in and it smells a bit like an import shop. It doesn't get powdery, dusty, or vague. This limited edition is a blend that men or women could wear quite easily, but be warned: its opening phase is very, very aggressive. Not for the faint of heart. I've ordered a bottle and hope to smell like this until doomsday. I have noticed that this scent tends to swing between manly and woodsy/leathery and sweet and cinnamon/grassy depending on my body chemistry. Either phase is quite nice.

In the bottle this smells like cardamom and patchouli with a husky overlay of leather. The first time I wore it I cut it with a carrier oil and it became the scent of worn leather, spicy cologne, and . . . latex gloves. Combined with the Horatio Hornblower I was watching at the time, this conjured a mental image so frightening that I am forced to share it with you now: Ioan Gruffudd, Dream Gynaecologist. Ahem. Moving on from that terrifying and yet compelling thought. It doesn't do the rubber thing on repeated wearings. That was apparently a fluke. There is still just a whiff of polyvinyl about this, which amuses me to no end; in the context of a scent called "Spanked," it's quite appropriate. It remains very stable on me, only shifting a little between cardamom and patchouli and back. Quite well-blended and pleasant. I'm starting to think that booze notes and leather really love my skin, because nearly any scent in which they are present stays in place well and wears long. At the extreme weardown, it's patchouli and bourbon, lounging around on a leather jacket. This scent is clearly tired because it's all f***ed out. The lingering aura is sexy as hell. It's the cardamom that's the genius, here, though. It's the "spank" in the Spanked, the sharp pain over the sexed-up backbeat. It's the spice that makes whatever sex it's having in your nose kinky sex. If you can find some of this limited edition, try it. It's quite unique and quite stimulating!

Ah. A Sade blend. Well. Let me rub my hands together, cackle wickedly, and get to work. This is sharp and crisp in the bottle. I pick up leather right away, with a deep note of oakmoss sharpening the orange blossom. There are florals hanging around the citrus, making it sweet, but the predominant note is leather. And we all know what leather does to my hormones. I hope the flowers don't ruin this one. This hits and softens just a bit, the leather and orange blossom and oakmoss soaring along together while the rest of the smells just sort of cruise in their wake. It's a very, very masculine scent to me while it's wet. The oakmoss is, I think, what makes this smell so green, and mixed with the orange blossom it's very manly, reminiscent of a very expensive aftershave. As it softens further, it never becomes feminine, but it does become sexy. VERY sexy. Yes, I realize I say this about every perfume with leather in it. So sue me. This is a very traditional blend that stops short of being overwhelming, and I think it would smell positively devastating on a man. I'm turning this one over to my husband at the nearest opportunity to see what it does on him. The florals never mess this one up, and its extreme weardown is leather and amber. Guh-lorious.

This one grabbed me from its intriguingly pornographic description, so on impulse I added it to my last order. And I'm very, very glad I did. I can smell the musk and patchouli right off, with a sweeter twinkle that must be the florals. There's a boozy note here that is very round and warm. It's a very sexual scent, powerfully so. In its raw state, perhaps the most strongly sexy scent I've found yet. Raw, it's also gender neutral. On, this fills out. It's bitingly sexy. That sweetness was the honey, which with the cognac is so rich that I can taste it. Oh, god, this is hot stuff. Very well-blended, the patchouli, myrrh, and honey mingle with the musk, brought up only by the slightly sweet and powdery florals. What with the honey, it's a little reminiscent of O, but this is a more biting, aggressive scent, driven by the patchouli. The opening volley of this rouses in me a fiercely passionate desire – sex as the aggressive urge; not the desire to hurt or inflict pain, as with the knife's-edge sexuality of Loviatar, or the urge to humiliate without the offer of gratification, as with Iago, but the urge to simply take, to ravish. I'm reminded of a line from that escapist bit of fluff Original Sin, which is really a great guilty pleasure movie, where a character remarks with uncanny accuracy that "To love is to give, and want to give more. To lust is to take, and want to take more." This is the smell of wanting to take more. The essence of lust, of thrusting your lover's body against a wall, of taking with hands and mouth and body until they have no more to give, and then forcing them just that much further until you have wrung every last cry from them, every gasp, every helpless flutter of pleasure. This dries to a patchouli-floral medley that teeters on the very edge of being nastily powdery, like Carnivàle was on me, but never quite tips over. It doesn't keep that knife-edge sexiness that it began with, but it's still nice. A version of this without the geranium would be fantastic. Recommended.

Oh, dear. This is so sweet in the bottle. The wine smells like grape Jolly Ranchers. I'm not getting anything else out of it, except a dark brush of gloom that is the leather. On it dirties up instantly. The leather and musk play nice together, each softening each. This is a very catty musk. The leather is rich and almost nutty. Thankfully, the wine dies back and lets the other notes out to play. The flowers in the background are beautiful – I can actually smell the violets for once, instead of having them stab me in the sinuses. For some reason this smells caramel-y on me, and a bit like the weardown of Miskatonic University. Remember when I said that one had a scent that reminded me of fur? This has it too – masterful. I'm not reading too much into it, but this really is the smell of a well-worn fur coat to which traces of perfume cling. As it wears down it's a gently leathery musk brushed with sweet, warm flowers. I, who cannot wear florals, can wear this; it passes through a brief phase where the violet smells sort of metallic, but it never goes soapy or powdery. I have to assume that the musk and leather pin the scent down enough to keep it from going awry. This is not nearly as ruthlessly demanding as Loviatar, making it a good choice for sexy women who want to smell assertive but not aggressive.

Okay. For those of you, like me, who have languished in ignorance about what Earl Gray tea is all about, let me bring you up-to-date. It's a black tea flavored with oil of bergamot, a type of sour orange. In the bottle this is spare and icily citric, like raw lemon rinds, with an underscore of leather that promises heat to come. To judge from past experience, the tea won't be detectable until it's warm. On, it becomes instantly masculine, a roomy, well-spaced and simple blend comprised of equal parts leather and bergamot, with an astringent undercurrent of tea. There's a note in the throw that's almost floral or fruity, a little zing of angelic sweetness. It's a very clean, businesslike blend with just a whiff of the animal and just a dash of kindness. It's charismatic, refined, just a little reserved, and very, very sexy. On me, it wears down quickly and will need frequent reapplication. Sort of fitting – in the novel, Severin's a passionate guy, but ultimately gutless. A woman could wear this easily, but I think it will only reach its full flowering on a man. I'll recommend it, but I'll also recommend reading the book. Both are pretty stupefyingly sexy.

Alas, Vicomte de Valmont, I am not fool enough to fall for your tricks a second time. Jeez. What is it with florals? So few of them can I actually wear, and nothing, apparently, with violet, geranium or carnation. It's either stinky soap, rancid makeup, or baby powder. Nauseating. And they smell so nice on other people! It's a conspiracy. Only roses don't turn on me. Geek, though . . . now that's a smell! Red-hot cinnamony slapped-around butt-groping sex. Now with leather! Yes, this is going to be a random scent-thoughts journal, rather than a real news and updates journal (that would be at my livejournal account). I'll maunder here about things perfumey.

I must be the only southern gal in the world who has no idea what a mint julep smells or tastes like. Ah, well. This is whiskey and mint in the bottle, a drinkable smell that warms to a delicious spicy mint with a hint of sassafras and just a brush of smoke. This one feels cold in the back of my throat when I sniff it. The throw is sasparilla, reminds me a lot of Laudanum. Boozy but pleasant, a laid-back scent with a casual flair that reminds me of Doc Holliday in Tombstone. Someone who knows how to have a good time and looks damn good doing it, even if they are driving themselves into an early grave. A word about the mint: while strong, it's not like toothpaste or breath mints. This is a green, herbal mint, like leaves chewed fresh from the garden. I don't care for mint flavorings or mint scents, but this is agreeable because it's quite natural, and the way the blend is constructed it's just an integral part of the opening phase of the scent. It does tone down after a bit into a less sharply minty scent; just a sweet boozy halo that lingers. It's a little dry and powdery, but it's a spiced powder that I don't really mind. On extreme weardown, it's sawdusty and root-beery. Very . . . well, kinda hayseed, actually. I like it, in a "Let's close the blinds, lock the doors, and secretly watch Roadhouse!" kind of way. At this stage, it lasts a long, long time. Unisex, agreeable, and just a little sexy.

In the bottle, it's rose, sweet, sweet rose, with a cloying, fruity edge to it. I'm leery of trying this because it's so juicy and bubblegummy. On, good God that rose is strong! It starts as an intense, spicy rose scent with more flair than subtlety, a charismatic, laughing rose with a heady and intriguing throw. It smooths to a silken red rose with a touch of dewy sweetness. That shades into a clean, white rose with a bit of blushing pink, a very new rose. It fades to a pale version of the initial spicy rose. It's interesting how the smell, while remaining essentially the same, slowly shifts as the oil wears down. Not my favorite rose scent; it lacks the subtlety on me that I demand in a floral. Still, a wonderful exercise of the perfumer's art, a single-note symphony that changes a great deal within its boundaries. Those seeking a rose single-note on the sweeter and more full-bodied side might want to look into this one. It's powerful stuff as it opens, and the continuing orchestration is hardly what you could call understated.

This is really nice in the bottle. A warm and citric cologne with just a touch of incense. It hits the skin and the frankincense and sandalwood come out together. The musk and amber are both heavier notes, staying behind the others, and staying close in. The outer edge of the throw is a beautiful sandalwood/orange blend whose woody notes keep it from smelling objectionably citric. It verges into vanilla at times. Close in it's kind of sour, the sharpness of the bergamot and neroli only occasionally letting the other scents through. Once it dries, though, the citrus does what it always does on my skin and vanishes, and this ends up smelling plain and powdery, like old incense that's lost a lot of its punch. I don't care for the scent of sandalwood by itself, evidently, though as a single element in a stable blend I like it perfectly well. Titus Andronicus had a lot of promise, but my chemistry just isn't playing nice and letting its full potential through. A solid blend overall. Unisex, definitely, but one that could easily go powdery or baby-oil if you have chemistry that dislikes any of the notes.

Wet, this is honey, clove, and ginger, quite rich and creamy, like spicy, creamy chai. Delightful. It smells a little like The Lion and Silk Road;it shares that round, grassy, birdseedy note, only here it's much more forward and spicy. It lasts through the whole life of the perfume, too. Very nice. On, it deepens. The cinnamon comes out in a red rasp, cut with an edge of what I think is the peppers. The pepper is not a dominant note, it's just supplies some jazz. Really, the cinnamon is like a screen of scent, and everything else comes through it; it's a subtle but very dominant smell. Underneath it all is a very soft, yellow musk that melds with the whiff of honey to cream all the spices together. I don't like cinnamon quite as much as this blend asks me to, but it's beautiful nevertheless. This is a spicy, lively, invigorating scent, a scent to inspire curiosity and excitement. It's beautiful and intriguing, and just a little sexy. Recommended for those who like spicy, exotic blends. The mix of musk and ginger is most alluring.